A World About to Dawn
by wordaddiction
Summary: Eponine finds herself more deeply entangled in the revolution than she originally expected. Mainly E/E but definitely some E/R, among other pairings. Any and all constructive criticism is GREATLY appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The Parisian sky was grasping on to the last few moments of day, maintaining a golden dusk throughout the streets and alleyways of the city. On one such street, a young woman concentrated very hard on placing each foot in front of the other. Like all young women, Eponine had once been a young girl. In fact, it had been just last month that she had found herself ready and willing to take her Father's absurd orders, as innocent and naïve as an untrained puppy. But freedom changes a person. It had changed the entire city, as far as Eponine could tell. Students were bursting with fiery passion, men were walking taller and women were happily busier. It seemed a new sense of confidence had found its way into the deepest corners of Paris, right beneath the French Enforcements' noses.

Eponine had changed with the rest of the city. She had grown smarter, straighter, more aware. She wasn't the little girl who lingered by her Father's feet anymore. In fact, his requests seemed altogether outrageous to her now. Pretending to be starving just to earn an extra sou, petty thievery in the dead of night. It was childish and greedy. Though there were days that left her for want of another meal, she no longer resorted to stealing and trickery. There were more important issues at hand than her selfish needs.

But Eponine was being selfish. As she let each foot fall in front of the other on the decaying brick path, she was not planning or scheming or thinking up new ways to help the cause. She was dreaming, something she didn't often let herself do. She was dreaming not of the revolution, but of a revolutionary.

Marius Pontmercy was one of the leading students who met in the ABC Café to plan the rebellion, next in line to Enjolras. There had been many a day Eponine had sat in on the meetings, wanting only to be a part of something bigger than herself. But as selfless plans often do, her idea had turned into something entirely too selfish. She found herself listening not to the passionate cries of freedom that burned in all of the students, but the cadence of Marius's voice as he spoke to the group. She watched as he grinned, laughed, spoke. He had even made conversation with her before, noticing that she was one of the few women to take interest in the revolution.

Soon, her attendance was no longer determined by the height of her passion, but the height of her craving for Marius. Eponine knew it was horrid of her to keep pretending, lusting after a schoolboy with fire in his eyes. But there was something so seductive about the way he seemed to invigorate the rest of the revolutionaries that she could not bare to stay away from.

It was the ABC Café that Eponine was headed towards now, though slowly and without urgency. The meeting was not scheduled until after dusk, and the last few rays of sunlight still whispered at the darkening sky.

"You there," a sharp voice interrupted her trivial daydreaming. "What are you doing alone at this hour?"

Eponine turned to find the Inspector that everyone so feared standing mere feet away from her. She instantly felt stupid for being so careless. Of course it would look strange for a woman to be out now, on the verge of night.

"I was just headed home, Monsieur," she answered with a polite nod.

"I'll escort you, then," Javert closed the gap between them. Eponine felt her pulse quicken as the Inspector came within touching distance. There were countless things she had done in her life to earn her a beating and an arrest from this man, but here he was escorting her home without any obvious intentions of doing either. There was, of course, the small dilemma of the truth.

Eponine had not been heading home. In fact, she had been heading the complete opposite direction of home. She realized this would become quite apparent to the Inspector once they continued on their way, or once she turned around to correct herself. In the moment's panic, she remembered that Enjolras lived on this street. He resided in a small apartment above the bakery, the address of which every revolutionary had been given to store weaponry and ammunition for the inevitable day of war.

If she could just get Javert to take her to the apartment without going inside, she could wait until she knew the ABC meeting was close to finishing and return home. Intent on this plan, Eponine continued walking in the direction she had taken originally. Javert strode by her side, face set in a permanent grimace.

After a few moments of silence passed, Eponine cautiously opened her mouth.

"What brings you to this part of town, Inspector?"

"Do not question me," he snapped, his eyes staying fixated on the road ahead.

"_Je suis désolé_," Eponine's cheeks flushed as she apologized. She remained silent for the rest of the walk, thinking it better to not speak unless spoken to with the formidable policeman.

By the time they reached the bakery, the light had melted completely away from the sky, leaving it black and starless. Eponine turned to Javert.

"It's just above here. Thank you very much for your company,"

"I should see you up,"

"That really isn't necessary, but thank you. I shouldn't have been out so late," Eponine turned to open the door to the bakery, but froze when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, she could feel the stale breath and stubbly cheek of the Inspector right against her ear.

"You're not going to win, Thendardiér. You and your friends are playing with fire and you're going to get burned. You'd do well to distinguish the flame before the French turn it on you," he growled.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Eponine shuddered as she tried to get the words to come out somewhat comprehensively.

"Then why on earth did you have me escort you to Monsieur Enjolras's residence?"

Javert pulled away from Eponine's shivering body and stood up straight with his hands dutifully behind his back.

"_Bonne nuit_," With that, Javert turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the taste of his sadistic _good night_ to simmer between Eponine's lips.

For a moment, the young woman couldn't move a muscle. She stayed impenetrable halfway through the door to the bakery, unable to breathe or speak or blink. Finally, after a particularly chilly gust of wind, she shook herself into reality. Her heart still pounding from the brief encounter, Eponine raced up the stairs and rushed into Enjolras's small apartment. She slammed the door and locked it before sliding down to the floor, her back against the wood.

What was she to do?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Eponine jumped as the door she had been leaning on swung open. She sprang to her feet and moved out of the way as a confused Enjolras stepped into the room.

"Eponine?" he reached behind him to shut the door, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

"Er…hi," she stammered. Frankly, she was surprised that Enjolras even knew her name. The numerous nights she had spent frequenting the ABC Café were spent in corners and behind tables. The young leader had never spoken to her before, much less called her by name. Eponine was convinced that she had become a silent wallflower peering in on a battle too big for her to fight, with the exception of the occasional word from Marius.

"What are you doing here?" Enjolras slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack beside the entryway. Piles of rifles lined the walls next to it, accompanied by barrels of gun powder and miscellaneous weapons the students had managed to throw together. Eponine had not noticed how many instruments of death were surrounding her until now.

"I-well-Javert, he was here and-I…" the words came tumbling out of her mouth in a sorry attempt at coherency.

Enjolras smiled warmly and took the girl's shoulder. She shuddered at the memory of Javert's hand in the very same place, only a couple of hours earlier. But Enjolras's was different. He was calm and unobtrusive. The golden haired boy lead Eponine over to a small table in the opposite corner of the room and pulled out a chair for her.

"How about you try again?" he asked, his eyes crinkling into a soft expectancy as he placed a glass in front of Eponine and filled it with wine.

She took a deep breath before beginning again, keeping her eyes fixated on the small amount of red liquid before her.

"I was on my way to the meeting…" she continued to explain how Javert had offered to escort her home, her cunning plan to escape suspicion, and what the Inspector had said upon their arrival. "I'm sorry, I should have left before you came home. I was just so scared,"

"'Ponine? Scared? Couldn't be," Enjolras took a sip of his own wine and laughed amicably.

"You say that as though I'm a brave person,"

"Of course you are. Everyone knows about how you stood up to Monsieur Thenardiér the night he tried to rob the aristocrat's house. Not to mention you're one of the only girls to join the cause," Enjolras leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with a fondness she had never encountered with anyone.

"I didn't realize…I mean I thought that no one noticed me,"

"Seems you thought wrong, little lady,"

Eponine felt her cheeks turn crimson. Here she had thought she was an outsider looking in, when all this time the very leader of the revolution had known who she was-perhaps even respected her-and had never said a word.

But there were more pressing matters than that of her status among the rebels.

"What are we to do about Inspector Javert?" she pressed, leaning into the table.

"Ah, his threats are of little value now. Lamarque is dead,"

"What? General Lamarque? That's horrible!"

"It is," Enjolras nodded solemnly. "But it's also wonderful. We're going to fight. The time is now. The day of his funeral we are going to build the barricade and begin the rebellion. His death is the sign we've been waiting for, don't you see?" his eyes lit up as he spoke. He seemed to grow bigger and taller in his chair, his hands flying feverishly through the air.

"But…that's so soon…" Eponine lowered her head as she took in the news.

"Yes. But what better time than now?"

"But will we be ready?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it. Although Marius has gotten his heart all strung up on some girl at precisely the wrong moment…but I'm sure he'll remember what's of more importance soon enough,"

Eponine snapped her head up at the sound of Marius's name.

"A girl?" she trembled.

"A petty thing. He only laid eyes on her and pledged his soul, the fool. I never took him for the romantic type, but I suppose we all have our own surprises hidden away,"

Eponine felt her chest tighten. It was stupid and childish of her to think that Marius had ever had any interest in her. A few conversations and a smile every now and then did not equate to a romance, and yet somehow she had made it seem to be so. But childish ideas were the very things she was trying to get away from. Eponine tucked her crumbling heart away for someone else to feel. She would no longer allow herself to dwell on the boy, however seducing his voice and however confusing his intentions.

"Unfortunate," she replied.

"It's no matter. I know he'll fight. He has to," Enjolras stood, grabbing his empty wine glass and setting it on a cabinet full of bottles and cups. Eponine suddenly remembered her drink and downed it rather quickly, standing and handing the glass to Enjolras.

"I'm sorry to have intruded. I'll be leaving," she brushed herself off and headed for the door.

"Well you can't walk all the way back at this hour," Enjolras set the empty cup down and fell in step behind her.

"It seems I haven't left myself with much of a choice," Eponine turned to look up at the broad shouldered boy who seemed to be so much more of a man than the past months had bestowed. Suddenly his jaw was much more angled, his arms brawnier and his gaze more intense. This was no child staring at Eponine. Not anymore.

"You could stay here,"

The wary girl looked at Enjolras searchingly. It was true, her parents wouldn't notice the difference, perhaps wouldn't care. And it was true that the walk back to her home would be quite a lengthy stretch of unaccompanied wandering, which wasn't exactly safe well after sunset. But Eponine had never spent the night at someone's apartment, much less a man's. She didn't know what the offer was intended to mean, and there didn't seem to be any polite way of asking.

There are moments when asking too many questions leads to too many answers, though. Eponine, feeling impulsive, decided that this was one such moment.

"Okay,"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! I'm super excited to be writing this and I'm immensely grateful for your follows! Any feedback would be wonderful. Always trying to improve the craft, you know! :) Thank you for reading!**

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**Chapter 3**

Enjolras grinned. Eponine couldn't help but notice how unlike himself the man was being tonight. Usually stoic and blind to anything but the revolution, now his smile seemed to slip onto his face lucidly and without struggle. He was relaxed, happy even. She suspected his earlier glass of wine was not the first to be downed that night. What else could make him so out of character?

"Good. I'm glad you're staying,"

Eponine felt her heart speed up a bit. She didn't want to go home, but there were countless instances that proved her impulsive decisions were not to be trusted. She didn't know why she ever followed them, really. But it was late and the idea of returning to her inevitably drunk parents was anything but tempting. Besides, Enjolras didn't mean anything by the request. He was merely looking out for a fellow Amis, something he'd have done for anyone.

"You can borrow some clothes, if you like," the scholar turned to a dresser that was crammed unevenly against the far wall, reaching in and pulling out a large shirt and billowy pants.

"I don't think that will be necessary. My clothes are just fine,"

"I just thought you might be more comfortable sleeping in something less…structured. But if you're sure…"

Right. Of course. _Sleeping_. Why else would he offer her different garments?

"Oh…Yes please, if you don't mind," Eponine tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear sheepishly. The borrowed clothing landed in her hands as Enjolras moved to the bottom drawer of the dresser.

"You can take the bed," he nodded towards the small cot in the corner as he produced another set of blankets and sheets from the bottom drawer. Eponine mused how it was a far stretch to call the beaten mattress a bed, but quieted herself when she realized how hypocritical it was to dwell on the fineness of his quarters. There had been too many nights where the girl didn't even have a roof over her head, let alone a sorry little cot. And now Enjolras was letting her have his.

"Oh no, I couldn't. I'll sleep on the floor,"

"Nonsense, you're my guest," Enjolras laid the blankets down next to the cot, tucking them together to resemble a place of sleeping.

"Which is exactly why I should be taking the floor," she said forcefully. Enjolras raised an eyebrow at her, amused.

"Alright, Mademoiselle, as you wish," he chided, gesturing to the makeshift arrangement. Eponine glanced from the blankets to the pile of unused clothing in her hands.

"Er…"

"Right, you need to change, okay. Erm…I'm afraid the flat's only one room, but I can go into the hall for a moment," Enjolras looked a bit flustered as he ruffled a hand through his golden curls, turning to exit the room.

"Thanks," Eponine didn't mean to kick the man out of his own apartment, but she wasn't about to undress in front of a boy whom, as far as she had known, not realized her existence until this very night.

Enjolras left the flat and Eponine slipped out of her dress and petticoats. She had never worn men's clothing before, but it was more comfortable than she might have expected. The large shirt dangled nearly to her knees, the pants far too big for her tiny waist. She tugged at the trousers in attempts to keep them aloft, but to no avail. Eventually, she went to fetch Enjolras from the corridor.

"Very flattering," he smiled as she opened the door, revealing her attempts at dressing herself. Eponine felt her cheeks burn.

"Thank you for letting me borrow your clothes,"

"Anytime," the man strode over to the dresser and took out a similar shirt to the one Eponine had adorned herself with. In a fluid motion, he stripped himself of his current garment and replaced it with the bigger shirt, which looked admittedly much more attractive than the girl's.

Eponine made her way to the pile of blankets next to the cot and burrowed under them, already feeling the clutches of sleep clawing at her eyes.

"I really think you should take the bed," Enjolras said lightly.

"No, really, I'm fine here," she peered at him over the tip of the covers. He blew out the candle on the table and suddenly everything was black. Eponine couldn't even see an outline of the man as he creaked his way over to her.

"I disagree," suddenly, his voice was much closer than she had expected it to be. With the surprising whisper, she felt herself being lifted into the air, blankets and all, and lain carefully down on what must have been the neighboring cot. She could feel his capable arms slide out from under her, the sheer unexpectedness of the situation leaving her with a breath caught in the middle of her throat.

"But…"

"Shh,"

"But Enjolras, I took all the blankets, where will you sleep?" she stammered.

"It's fine, I can stay right here," she heard him lie down on the bare wood floor and cringed at the idea of it. This was silly. He should have just let her be. It was a kind gesture, to be sure. But silly nonetheless.

"At least come lay here with me," the words escaped her lips before Eponine knew what she was saying. Upon realizing her mistake, she clutched the sheets above her much tighter than she had before. _What were you thinking, Eponine?_

There was silence about the room for a while. It seemed like an infinity, but the infinity came to a close at some point, revealing the smooth voice of a young man echoing throughout the blackness.

"I could,"

Though Eponine knew what she had said was careless, she couldn't bring herself to retrieve it.

"Please," she whispered, meaning for it to be an insistence but hearing it as a pathetic whimper. He answered with a creak as the floorboards sighed beneath him. In a moment, Eponine could feel the heat of his body inches away from hers, settling into the bed, twisting and turning. He finally became still once he had turned on his back and tucked his arms into his sides.

Silence ensued.

"I don't mind, you know," Eponine said quietly. "I don't mind if you take up more space,"

"I wouldn't want to intrude," the just-above-a-whisper seemed to travel to the girl's ears and stop, not allowing the rest of the room to hear.

The two people lay without sound for a long time. So long, in fact, that Eponine was quite sure Enjolras had drifted into the sweet caress of sleep. Somehow less tired than she was only minutes earlier, she stared at the black ceiling and thought. Did this strange episode mean that she and Enjolras were friends? It seemed unlikely that the revolution's leader would entertain her fantasies of occasional conversations and acknowledgement, but it also seemed unlikely that he would continue to ignore her at the ABC Café.

Friends or not, it was the first time that Eponine had shared a bed with a man, however platonic the intentions. She wondered if Marius would be jealous if he knew…

_Of course not, you childish fool. He's in love with someone else now. _Her own harsh words hurt more than usual. Perhaps it was because of their resounding truth.

Angry at herself, Eponine squirmed further under the blankets and curled up against the sleeping scholar. There was no harm in being warm, she thought. It was then that she felt the firm arm of her heat source curl around her arched back, resting gently against the thin shirt. Eponine tensed. She had not expected him to notice her new position.

"_Fais de beaux rêves_," he whispered. _Sweet dreams._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The Les Amis meeting was fervent. Students were nearly trembling with anxious murmurs and whispered strategies. All throughout the café, rebellion was boiling beneath the skin of each bright eyed youth, ready for the battle that now approached at an alarming rate.

Eponine eyed Marius from across the room. He sat next to Grantaire, sipping on a beer and nodding absently as his friend spoke. Though she knew what he was really thinking about, Eponine tried not to pay too close attention. Instead, she shifted her gaze to the vigorous leader at the front of the room, his fist raised in a freedom inducing cry. She thought coolly how, only hours earlier, that arm had been wrapped around her shivering shoulders. She had woken, still tucked into the safety of Enjolras's grasp, his chest rising and falling to a sleepy rhythm. Not wanting to disturb him, Eponine stayed still for quite a while, until the sun was filtering in through the window, shrouding all of the dust in the air in a silvery spotlight.

Enjolras woke slowly, his eyes blinking into the world as though it were painful. After the initial shock of reality, he glanced down at the girl curled into him and immediately, as if he had suddenly touched a very hot surface, removed his arm from around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said, jumping up from the cot.

"What for?" Eponine sat up and stretched, letting the covers fall to her waist.

Enjolras gestured haphazardly to the cot.

"This…I…I don't know what got into me," he stammered, avoiding eye contact with the wide eyed girl.

"I hardly think it was you, Monsieur," she laughed.

"Of course it was. You'll have to forgive me, 'Ponine. After hearing the news, I had far too much to drink and-"

"Enjolras, it was only a night in good company. It's nothing to apologize for," Eponine smiled as she stood up, remembering to keep the oversized trousers from falling to her ankles. Enjolras looked at her through squinted eyes.

"So you didn't…I mean we were…we were just sleeping?"

Eponine stared at him for a moment before she processed what he had said. Once she understood, her entire head was thrown back in laughter. It took her a moment to compose herself before she replied.

"Surely you weren't so drunk you can't remember what happened?" she grinned. Enjolras inspected the floor sheepishly, running a familiar hand through his tousled locks. He seemed to do that a lot.

"Well," Eponine said matter-of-factly, "first you beckoned me into your flat, and then we made wild, passionate love to each other for quite some time, and then we fell asleep on your cot,"

Enjolras's mouth had formed a tiny "O" shape as he listened to the account. Eponine punched him playfully, an even broader smile dancing across her face.

"Only kidding, Monsieur," she gathered up her dress and petticoats from the floor. "It was late, I needed a place to stay. You let me sleep here and we couldn't come to an agreement on who would sleep in the bed, so we both did. It was all very innocent," she could see an obvious sigh of relief in the boy as his shoulders fell and his face relaxed into it's normal intense smolder.

It became apparent to her that Enjolras had been much more influenced the previous night than he had led her to believe. He _had_ seemed a bit softer, but now she was sure of it. Her attempt at lightening the mood only hardened his features more as he changed into a suitable shirt and left her to do the same. It was as if Eponine had woken up next to an entirely different person than she had originally fallen asleep with.

Now, in the midst of his passionate speech, she could see the seriousness of his demeanor put to good use. This was what he was meant to do; fight, unite, rebel. It fit him so perfectly, or, perhaps he fit it.

Eponine was still wondering whether the night had changed the status of their friendship when the leader approached her after the meeting.

"You'll get home alright tonight, yes?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks. I'll be sure to stay away from the Inspector," Enjolras seemed unconvinced at the answer. He was searching for something in Eponine's chocolate eyes. After a moment, he seemed to have found it, or perhaps given up looking. He nodded shortly before moving on to a different conversation.

So the tables _had_ turned, Eponine thought as she left the café and slipped into the deep black of the night. She couldn't help but smile to herself as she darted down an alley. Years of doing her father's dirty work and living, in essence, on the streets had left her with very few chances at friendship. Her brother, Gavroche, was a cocky little boy whom she loved very much, but he spent most of his time traipsing around the city. He fancied himself a revolutionary, and maybe he was. But Eponine didn't see very much of him, which made her virtually friendless. _Until now_.

She breathed in a huge sum of air. Paris was grimy and dirt ridden, but it did have a certain elegance to it in the moonlight. Old bricks and decaying buildings seemed only half as decrepit in the dark, giving only a solid path to follow and a sturdy surface to hold. That was all anyone really needed from a city, anyway.

"Think we're going somewhere, do we?" Eponine stopped in her tracks. She couldn't recognize this voice at all, only comprehend that it was somewhere behind her. She spun on her heel, but the alleyway she had been cutting through to stay off of the main street was so dark, she couldn't find a silhouette anywhere. Without warning, a clammy hand grabbed her forearm and pulled her back in the direction she had just come from. A scream worked it's way into the frightened girl's throat, but she swallowed it once she realized how much unwanted attention that would draw to her whereabouts.

"Who are you?" she whispered through clenched teeth, trying to escape from the stranger's tight grip. A deep laugh shattered the eerie quiet of evening. "My dear, you really don't want to know,"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi Everyone! Sorry this chapter is a tiny bit graphic. I think it should still be okay for a T rating, but if anyone has any objections, please let me know! Thanks so much for reading, guys. Your reviews really make my day and help me a lot!**

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**Chapter 5**

Eponine struggled against the man, kicking and pulling as much as she could muster, but there was only so much a starving street rat could do. The tight hand dragged her a shorter distance than expected, pulling her into a dimly lit doorway only a block from where the stranger had found her.

Eponine was thrown to the floor, her shoulder crashing into the wood with excruciating force. She lifted her head in attempt to see where she was, but the fall had left her vision blurry. Slowly, she made out the sound of laughter and clinking glasses, then the sight of bar stools and empty beer bottles littering the counter and floor.

"Look who's dropped in, boys," the voice from the alleyway jeered. A collective cheer filled the girl's ears as she sat up warily.

"What the hell," she spat, annoyed that her words were coming out slurred. Her head was pounding, blood rushing to her face and directly behind her eyes. She felt a small kick in the ribs, but couldn't follow the sensation fast enough to find who had caused it.

"Watch your language, Mademoiselle," a different voice taunted from the bar.

Eponine stood up and squeezed her eyes shut to rid herself of the confusion. It only seemed to make things worse.

A hand slithered around her waist and pulled her against an unknown torso, causing her to cringe from where the kick had bruised her. She saw a blurry face become uncomfortably close to hers, felt his stale breath on her lips as he spoke.

"How about a kiss, Mademoiselle?" he smiled. His lips crashed into hers with a kind of brute force. Eponine slammed her fists into his chest, trying to push him away. He only held her closer. His mouth, ridden with the stench of alcohol, grew more forceful and more deliberate. He searched her lips with his, trying to find an opening in the tight line she had formed. When he wasn't successful, he pressed his thumb into the precise spot on her ribs that had been hurt, forcing her to gasp in pain. The man took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her unwilling mouth, clumsily crashing into her teeth.

Eponine screamed and bit down on her attacker's tongue. He quickly pulled away from her, only to follow with a slap across the face. She held her cheek and glared at the man, whose face had now come into focus. He was unfamiliar, as far as she could tell.

"Don't be rude," he grinned, revealing yellowed teeth and cracked lips.

"Come on, love, give us a little fun," another man got up from the bar. Eponine could see that there were about four or five of them in the room, drinking and laughing around the scene._ If only Marius were here to help her…_

The man grabbed her chin and brought his lips to hers, but Eponine ripped her head away and spat on him. She tried to run for the door, but the drunken men were quicker. They lifted her and carried her back into the bar. She thought she might faint from all of the pounding in her head. It was all she could do not to collapse right there and then.

She closed her eyes as a continuous line of kicks and punches erupted all over her skin. She could feel the bruises forming, the blood dripping from her nose. She had learned, after numerous beatings from her father, that there came a time when fighting was no longer of use. Instead, she imagined herself far away and let them color her black and blue. Everything had to come to an end at some point. Everything.

"Y-you should stop," the voice was quiet at first, advancing from the furthest corner of the bar. "S-shtop," Eponine opened her eyes to see the man set his bottle down on the counter and walk towards the group, clearly unsteady.

"What was that?" the beatings stopped as everyone turned to look at the defiant yet clearly wasted voice. Eponine moaned and clutched at her stomach, which had received a significant number of blows.

"Shtop hurting her," he slurred. "Sh-she's innocent," he came right up to the girl and knelt down beside her sloppily. As he leaned over her bloodied face, Eponine tried to focus in on his own features. It took a moment, but recognition spilled over her eyes. She gasped.

"Oh shut up, Grantaire. It's not like you'd want anything from her, anyway," the man who had found Eponine in the alley sneered.

"What?" the boy looked up.

"Well you've never fancied any of our women, 'ave you?" the rest of the men laughed lazily.

"I-I don't know wha-at you mean," Eponine could tell that the boy from Les Amis was struggling to get his words through to the rest of them. The liquor was thick on his lips.

"Oh but I think you do,"

The man picked Grantaire up by the shirt collar and brought him up to eye level.

"Wouldn't you rather a kiss from me, Monsieur?" he grinned. Grantaire glared at the man and threw a lopsided punch at his face. When he missed, his tormentor shook his head and laughed, never letting go of Grantaire's collar.

"Now that just won't do," the man kneed him into the nearest table, punching him as he fell to the floor beside Eponine. Grantaire clutched at his arm but moved to get up, an anger in his eyes that no amount of drink could have masked.

"What the hell is going on here?" a new voice came from the doorway. Eponine breathed heavily. She knew that voice.

"E-Enjolras," Grantaire managed. The fleet of drunkards looked towards the new addition to the room. He stalked over to the group.

"Eponine? Oh, God! Eponine!" he flew to her side. His hand brushed against her cheek, wiping away blood and dust as his frantic eyes took in the sight. She was turning a hundred shades of blue, with blood matted here and their like dried paint and open wounds dotting her complexion. She was completely broken.

Enjolras stood, infuriated.

"What have you done, Grantaire?" he said quietly, all the rage of a scream compressed into a thin whisper.

"I di-didn't do anything," the boy's eyes were wide with fear.

"You're drunk," Enjolras spat. "You're always drunk," He surveyed the room of now silent men.

"You'll regret this,"

"Enjolras I-I was trying t-to help,"

"But you couldn't, could you? Because she's almost dead and you're completely wasted, so that didn't really work," his voice was rising.

Enjolras slammed his fist into the man's face who was holding Grantaire by the shirt. A loud crunch sounded and everyone was frozen, as if the entire world had stopped in that single moment. The man keeled over, clutching his crooked, bleeding nose. Enjolras steamed.

"You should all be dead," he said, almost silently, staring directly at Grantaire. He didn't stay to see the look of utter pain flash across his friend's face, but bent to pick up the broken girl and walked out the door, leaving them with empty bottles and empty hearts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Eponine woke to the low murmur of voices drifting towards her. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized that she had been in this room before. The collection of weaponry, the tall dresser, and the very cot she was resting on informed her of her whereabouts; the young scholar's flat. The table that sat in the corner was now occupied by two familiar faces, bent over and deep in quiet discussion.

"You cannot keep doing this to her, Marius," Enjolras muttered crisply.

"Doing what?" Eponine sucked in a breath at the sound of his voice.

"Pretending she is your dog," the leader hissed. Marius looked taken aback.

"I do no such thing,"

"Then what's this?" Enjolras shoved a small piece of folded parchment in Marius's face angrily.

"I hardly think asking her to take a note to Cossette for me is that insulting," he scoffed. Eponine froze upon hearing the name. That's why he was here? For a moment she thought…But such moments are silly, as are the thoughts that accompany them. Eponine reminded herself to breathe and continued to listen to the whispered conversation.

"The notes, the people, the errands. That's all she ever does!" Enjolras slammed his fist against the table.

"What is our friendship to you, Enjolras? Why do you care?"

"Look at her," he flung his hand in Eponine's direction. The two young men glanced at her and she snapped her eyes shut, not wanting them to realize her awareness. "She is bruised and hurt and you have done nothing but ask if she's okay after coming here in search of a letter carrier,"

"Well what do you propose I do? Take her in? Lay her in my bed? It seems you're angry that I wasn't there to save her. You're angry that I was not you," Marius took less care in lowering his voice and Eponine peered at him through half closed eyes. He was still sitting at the table, but only just. His legs were poised to stand, his hands gripping the edge of the wood.

"Even now, you're defending yourself. Do you even care about her? Would you have preferred it were some other girl so that you'd still have someone to deliver your love letters?"

"I resent that!" Marius barked, leaping from his seat.

"You may resent it but you can't deny it," Enjolras followed him to his feet and took a step towards his trembling guest. "Eponine cannot run your errand for you at this time. It's best you see to it that Cossette receives her note by some other means. Now I think it's time for you to leave, Monsieur,"

Marius held his gaze for a moment, without a sound or a gesture. Eventually, he gave a small nod and proceeded to the door, where he turned to look at the girl one last time. Eponine did not shut her eyes. Marius opened his mouth in surprise and glanced at Enjolras, who was still waiting for him to leave. Seeing no change in his stony friend, Marius took one more look at Eponine and continued through the door, letting it click shut behind him.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras said quietly without breaking his gaze from the doorway.

Eponine was silent.

"How are you feeling?" he turned towards her and knelt down by her side.

"Sore," she wasn't expecting it to be so hard to voice a single word. That was one of the casualties of being beaten, she guessed. She should have known that. Although this was admittedly the worst the girl had ever experienced, even from her father. Only he could turn beatings into a contest.

"Joly's been here. He's tended to your wounds. He said you're to stay in bed for a few days," Enjolras murmured softly, brushing a strand of dirty brown hair away from Eponine's cheek. For a brief moment, the young woman wondered if he was drunk. The only other time he had seemed this relaxed in front of her was the night that she had spent in his flat, and it was evident that he had not been sober then. She noted that, although his stoic manor suited him and his passion for liberty, the cool blue of his eyes was much easier to manage when he let down his guard. It was beautiful, even. His entire face seemed easier, less harsh, as he searched her for any sign of pain.

"Thank you for stopping them," Eponine breathed.

"Don't. They were fowl. When I think about what they did to you…" the blonde shook his head. "Thanks aren't necessary. I'm just glad you're safe,"

"Grantaire really was trying to help," she said lightly. Enjolras's face hardened.

"But he didn't,"

"But he tried. Don't begrudge him that,"

The boy smiled weakly at her.

"You're so good, 'Ponine," he urged, taking her hand in his. "Marius would be lucky to have you,"

Eponine stared at him. He knew? Was it that obvious? Did Marius know? Apparently not, if all she was to him was an errand runner. Or perhaps he did know, and that was all he cared for her to be…

Enjolras bit his lip and focused his gaze on the floor, aware that he had said the wrong thing.

"He wouldn't," Eponine whispered.

"What?" Enjolras brought his eyes back up to meet hers.

"He wouldn't be lucky," she gave him a small smile. "He'd be silly to want a girl like me,"

"Of course n-"

"No," Eponine cut him off. "It's okay. He's got Cossette. I'm just a beggar who tags along. Gotta stop being a shadow sometime, eh?" she laughed, but a revealing tear rolled down her bruised cheek. Enjolras wiped it away with a sad stare and a heavy hand.

"You're much more than a shadow, Mademoiselle,"

"I might as well be. But that's alright, it was my own fault," she paused. "How did you know?"

"A scholar must always observe his surroundings," Enjolras smirked, getting to his feet. "And you were quite something to observe,"

Eponine blushed profusely, wondering what exactly the revolutionary had seen. She rarely allowed herself to daydream in the presence of others, but couldn't help but dwell on the "what-ifs" and "could-have-beens" in the privacy of Parisian streets. Had she really been alone?

"I'm afraid I've got to leave. There's a meeting at the Café Musain," Enjolras strode to the door and took his coat from the rack.

"I can't stay here. I should come! Or go back to my parent's," Even the thought of it made the girl grimace.

"That's absurd. You're to rest until Joly says otherwise," Enjolras opened the door.

"But I can't take your bed from you for that long,"

The young man smiled at his bedridden friend.

"Seems we've figured out that problem before,"

With one last sly grin, he clicked the door shut.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It had been a week since the beating. Eponine sat in the corner of the ABC Café, her arms wrapped unconsciously around her rib cage, her attention focused on a fiery Enjolras.

"We'll set up barricades all throughout the city. Thirty or so men to each street. I've got a good collection of weaponry in my flat, but if we're to win this we _need more_. Is there anyone who can manage another dozen rifles?" the boy looked heatedly about the room.

"I'll try, Enjolras, but I can't say for sure," Marius piped up warily. Eponine's gaze lingered on him for a second too long before she returned it to Enjolras. Marius was not important right now. At least, that's what she was forcing herself to believe.

Enjolras ended the meeting a half hour later, leaving everyone with freedom on their lips. If nothing else, his passionate speeches had the whole city murmuring about equality where they had once been discussing the king's fashion choices. It was as if liberty were a disease, clawing its way to any living thing that would take it.

"Ready to go home?" Enjolras asked as he adorned his coat and hat in front of Eponine.

The beaten girl had nearly taken up permanent residency at the scholar's flat. After the few days of diagnosed rest had passed, Enjolras sat with her at the table.

"I know you'll be wanting to go back, now," he started. Eponine's stomach dropped unexpectedly. "But I really think it would be best if you stayed here,"

Eponine's pulse quickened. The truth of it was that she really did not want to go home. Home meant a drunken father and a mother who would rather she were out pick-pocketing than at home, healing. As neither of her parents had come looking for her since she had temporarily moved out, the idea of leaving without any consequences made her happier than most anything had in a long while. She had also left little Gavroche to fend for himself, but that seemed to be how he preferred it. Besides, he was never home anyway.

"I-"

"I know that it's uncomfortable to sleep on the same cot," He cut in. _Not as uncomfortable as the floor that I sleep on at home…_she thought. "But hear me out. You may not need to stay in bed all of the time anymore, but you're still getting better. If you went back, they'd have you out doing all sorts of things that would only make it worse, don't try to deny it,"

She didn't.

"If you stayed here, I could take care of you and feed you and make sure that nothing like this happens again," Enjolras stared at her intently. "I want you to stay, Eponine,"

For a while, the girl couldn't find the words to say anything. She just sat there with her mouth slightly open and her wide almond eyes evaluating the man across the table. Eventually, she took in a deep breath and replied.

"If you'll have me,"

Enjolras's stern face melted into a smile. His icy eyes lit up as he flashed his pearly teeth at the girl. It was, Eponine realized, one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen; Enjolras, happy.

Her new flat mate took her arm in the Café Musain as they headed to the door. Before they could reach it, a head of curly black hair appeared in front of them. Enjolras stopped cold.

"We have no time for this, Grantaire," he said through clenched teeth.

"I was actually hoping to have a word with Eponine," The girl was surprised to find that the seemingly permanent slur was gone from the student's voice. Upon further inspection, she realized that he was not drunk at all. His eyes were alert, his stride was tall. It may have been the first time that the man hadn't had alcohol flowing through his veins. It was also the first time that Grantaire had made any inclination to speak to her.

"Like hell, you will," Enjolras moved to open the door but Grantaire stepped in his way.

"I really must talk to her,"

"You don't deserve to be in the same room with her, let alone talk to her," the boy growled.

"I'd like to talk to him," said Eponine quietly. Her friend looked down at her. A thin line formed in the furrow of his brow.

"No, Eponine. I don't want you associating with drunkards,"

"He's clearly not drunk. Besides, I think I can pick and choose who I associate with, thank you," she slipped her arm out from Enjolras's and stepped towards Grantaire.

The black haired youth smiled at her.

"The back room?"

Eponine nodded and they worked their way to a doorway in the interior of the café. Enjolras followed in close step.

"Alone, if you don't mind," Grantaire shot over his shoulder.

"I _do_ mind, actually,"

"Enjolras," Eponine sent him a meaningful look. The blonde bristled behind them.

"Fine. But I'll be right here. If he touches you-"

"I'll scream. But he won't, so relax,"

Enjolras huffed and sat down at a table as the two entered the back room.

"Thank you for speaking to me," Grantaire said in a small voice. He pulled a chair out for the girl and took a seat across from her.

"I'm not angry at you," she returned.

Grantaire looked up.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. I'm grateful that you tried to help back there," Eponine, in a moment of confidence, took the man's hand. "What Enjolras said was cruel. You didn't deserve it,"

"I did," he shook his head. "If I had been sober-"

"You had no idea they were going to do that to me. A man is free to drink as he pleases, it's not a crime," the girl laughed innocently. Grantaire tilted his head and smiled sadly at her. A tear threatened the edge of his nearly black eyes.

"But I did," he choked.

"What?"

"I knew. I mean I didn't know they were talking about you, but I knew they were going to find some girl. And I didn't do anything about it. I sat at that bar and I ordered another drink," the tear escaped and trailed down his cheek, leaving a silvery path in its wake.

"Grantaire, I-"

"No, no don't say anything. Listen for a moment,"

Eponine closed her mouth and waited patiently. The boy inhaled deeply before starting again.

"I know them all. I go to that bar often and so do they. We drink together. And it's happened before. They find girls and they…use them. And I've never said anything or done anything because I've always been too drunk to care. But then I saw that they had you and it made me so…angry. Not just for that moment but for all the moments when I hadn't tried to stop them. And I am so sorry, Eponine. Truly, I am. I won't begrudge you for never speaking to me after tonight, but I just wanted you to know. I cannot apologize enough," the tears were flowing freely, now. His face glistened as he met eyes with the girl. She was beautiful, even with the bruises and the scars.

"You are a good man, Grantaire. And I forgive you. We've never spoken before, but I'd very much like to speak to you again," Eponine squeezed his hand and smiled. Disbelief shone through his face.

"No, Eponine I'm not a good man. That's the point,"

"I'd like to make my own judgments, if you don't mind. And I've decided you are,"

Grantaire was quiet a moment. He withdrew his hand from the table and closed his eyes. The sound of rain hitting the roof began, _pitter-pattering_ its way into their conversation.

"What they said about me, about the kissing…it was true," He did not bring his gaze up to meet her eyes.

"That you don't take part in the beatings…?" Eponine inquired, confused.

"No…well no, I don't, but…I…" he began to shake, ever so slightly. "I want to kiss men, not the women they bring into the bar. Or any women, really,"

Eponine breathed a sigh of realization.

"I'm a horrible man, Eponine. I'm an abomination," he buried his head in his hands and shook violently, sobs tearing through the quiet of the empty room.

"No, no Grantaire, shh," the girl got up and moved around the table. She wrapped her arms around the man, leading him to his feet. "You're not an abomination. You're just a man. Just a man," she cooed.

"No, I am. I am. I-I think about men the way I should think about women, I let those people beat girls, I'm in love with my best friend-" Grantaire cut himself off, biting his lip.

"…Enjolras?" Eponine asked shyly. The boy froze a moment before nodding, defeated.

"Does he know?"

Suddenly, Grantaire looked fierce.

"No, only you know, 'Ponine. Please don't tell him. Please,"

Eponine folded her arms around the man once more, leaning her head on his chest.

"I won't tell anyone. You are not a bad man, Grantaire. Remember that,"

He pulled away from the hug and held Eponine at arms length, looking desperately about her face. There were patches of purple and blue, some thin cuts that had been cleaned and begun to heal, and the remnants of a black eye still circling. The girl stared at him with nothing but kindness being revealed through all of the marks and scars.

Suddenly, Grantaire pulled her to him and shoved his lips onto hers. He pushed her against the table frantically and lifted her up by the waist. Stunned, Eponine could not move. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling, the boy's lips searching her own, his tongue slipping carelessly between their mouths. Grantaire's hands trailed up and down her abdomen as he leaned in further, nearly pushing the girl onto her back. It was only when she winced noticeably after he had touched a particularly brutal sore spot that he backed away.

Grantaire stood, unmoving. His eyes had grown to wide circles, his hands reaching up to grab at his curly hair. He started to back away, shaking his head.

"I am so sorry," he whispered, retreating through the doorway and running to the café's exit.

Enjolras stalked in to find Eponine still sitting on the table, shocked and still.

"What took so long?" he growled, eyeing her suspiciously.

Eponine slowly removed herself from the table. She brushed off her dress and pushed in the chairs, then looked up at her friend.

"He had a lot to say,"

* * *

**Hi so that happened. What did you guys think? Any suggestions on what happens next? I've got some ideas but I always love to hear requests or other's thoughts. Thanks for reading, everyone!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Eponine absently held a finger to her lips as she stared out the small window in Enjolras's flat. Outside, the June sun was curling its shimmering fingers around all of the bricks and buildings, dancing off of people's backs and sneaking into the corners that did not normally show such hospitality towards light. It had been nearly two days since the girl's encounter with Grantaire, but still she could not seem to erase the unexpected kiss from her tender lips. She had not seen the boy since then. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"What's on your mind, 'Ponine?" Enjolras glanced up from his thick book just long enough to notice her pensive expression.

"Nothing," she smiled cheerily and went to sit across from the boy.

"Ah, but there is never nothing," the boy replied without taking his eyes off of the text. Eponine leaned back in her chair and blew a long breath out through her mouth.

"I was just thinking how different everything is now,"

"Oh?"

She could tell that Enjolras was only half listening. He seemed wholly interested in whatever the subject of his book was, turning pages quickly and mouthing words to himself absentmindedly. Eponine didn't mind, though. She had taken to watching the man study. There was a certain elegance in the way that his jaw hung slightly ajar, his eyes softened, his fingers curled around information like an old blanket. Sometimes, Eponine could catch the slightest of sounds protruding from his unknowing lips and she listened as he read to her about the theories of Plato or the history of France. Never having learned to decipher the scribbles he so easily transformed into language, watching him do so was awe-inspiring. It was one of the only things he seemed to love.

"Well, I'm living with you indefinitely. I'm part of _les amis de l'ABC_. I've made friends. Just two weeks ago, no one knew my name," Eponine played with a strand of her hair as she spoke. It was true, a lot had changed in a very short amount of time.

"I knew your name," Enjolras replied, for once breaking his trance from the book and allowing the girl a small smile.

"Well you never spoke to me,"

"Perhaps," he mused. "I was too intimidated,"

"Don't be silly. I never spoke in those meetings. What could I ever have done to intimidate you, the fearless leader of the revolution?"

Enjolras merely let out a soft laugh and went back to his book, shaking his head ever so slightly. Eponine wondered what the man had meant in his words, but let it go. It was much more rewarding to simply sit and watch as he continued to bury himself in literature rather than force a conversation.

That night, Eponine slid into bed and pushed herself against the wall so that her friend had room to get in behind her. After he blew out the candle and the room went dark, he joined her under the covers, wrapping his arm around her small frame. It had become a habit of theirs, the tired embrace. Although the sun brought a warm haze during the day, night time was cool and chilling. The two had found that entangling themselves with one another was much more comfortable than attempting to sleep at opposite ends of the cot.

"Enjolras?" Eponine murmured as she stared at the black wall before her.

"Mm?"

"Is Grantaire your friend?"

"He was," Enjolras replied after a moment of silence.

"Why did that change?"

"He drinks himself into a stupor. It distracts from the cause and it damages his abilities to focus," the answer was stiff, as if it were scripted. Eponine could feel the boy's steady breaths against her back.

"But you still care about him, don't you?" she pushed, sure that she could get him to admit some sort of feeling for Grantaire.

"I care about this country. Anyone who does not is not worth my time,"

"He does care about the country, Enjolras. I think you're being too harsh," Eponine felt his grip tighten around her waist. The marble lover of liberty was not used to being defied, even by the sleepy girl enfolded in his arms.

"I am being honest," he said stonily.

Eponine turned around so that she was facing the boy. She could just barely make out the small glint of his eyes, but she could clearly feel the air escaping his lips and landing warmly on her neck.

"I don't want you to dislike him because of what happened to me," She said firmly.

"He should have stopped them," Enjolras snapped.

"He _tried_. They were being cruel to him, too,"

"What could they possibly have said to him that would hinder his ability help you?" he hissed.

Eponine bit her tongue. Although she wasn't sure what her encounter with Grantaire had meant, she _was_ sure that the boy was confused and scared, two emotions that the street urchin was entirely too familiar with. She was honored that he had come to her, of all people, with his fistfuls of worries and self-doubts and she wasn't about to betray them to the one person who he least wanted to know. No, not even the ignorant teasing of the drunkards would find its way to Enjolras's ears.

"They were horrible men. They were going to hurt him just because he was trying to defend me. Please, Enjolras. Try to understand. Grantaire is a good man,"

Echoes of her conversation with Grantaire drifted through the girl's head. _I'm an abomination…_

An icy silence settled over the room. Eponine's eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness and searched Enjolras for any sign betraying his thoughts. He revealed nothing, but stared above her head for a long while.

"Please speak to him," she begged.

"Is that what he was discussing with you? Strategies to make me less angry?" The words were flung from his brutal lips.

"No, of course not. He was apologizing profusely and I accepted. Why can't you?"

"I am not obliged to forgive a man I don't see worthy of forgiveness,"

"That _man_ is willing to die for a cause that you recruited him for. The least you could do is indulge him in a short-lived friendship," Eponine retorted briskly. Enjolras removed his arm from her side and pushed himself off of the cot. The brunette sat up and watched as he paced a few feet away.

"I will not be spoken to like this in my own home. In my own _bed_," he spat.

"Throw me out, then," Eponine narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"Is that a threat?" The girl could hear the smirk dripping from his voice. She began to get up.

"It's a promise. I'll see myself out," she ripped the blankets from her legs and stood, grabbing her crumpled dress from the floor. In a hurried rage, she stripped herself of the man's clothing until she was exposed in only her corset and threw her petticoats on over it. She shoved the borrowed shirt and pants at Enjolras, who had for a moment been struck dumb by the sight of her.

Suddenly returning to reality, he threw the clothing to the ground.

"No need," he growled, grabbing her by the forearm and dragging her to the entryway. "You're not welcome here anymore,"

Enjolras forced himself not to look at the girl's face as he slammed the door. It was a good thing, too. If he had been so weak as to watch as her creamy brown eyes grew and her entire body flinched with the sound of the closing wood, he would not have been able to stalk back into his flat as she leaned her head against the corridor's wall. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes and streamed freely down her cheeks. She did not bother to wipe them away, letting them stain her skin with the sting of abandonment.

_I don't know why you're surprised_, she thought to herself. _He is just one more man that didn't want you_.

A few minutes passed. Eponine tried to lift her head from the stone wall but could not bring herself to do it. She felt weighed down by a thousand pounds, aged by a thousand years. She inhaled a wobbly breath and swallowed hard.

_There's no use in crying, 'Ponine. _

Just as she was mustering all of her strength into some sort of movement, remembering that she had to find somewhere to sleep tonight, the door behind her gently swung open. Enjolras appeared, head hung low and blonde curls falling in front of shy eyes. He stepped across the hall and took her in his arms, wrapping her tightly in the warmth and dusty smell of books that she had grown so accustomed to. Eponine shook uncontrollably.

"_Shh_, Eponine. _Shh_…I am so sorry," he whispered into her uncombed hair. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her nose in his night shirt, trying so very hard to believe that he had really come back. One would think that solid flesh would be enough proof. Perhaps, to the Jondrette girl, the past had proven otherwise.

"Come back to bed. Please," he breathed. Eponine withdrew from the embrace and ran a doubtful gaze over the boy's face. He seemed sincere, his angled features glowing palely in the moonlight that eavesdropped from the window.

Reluctantly, the girl followed him back into the room and returned to her place on the cot without bothering to change. Enjolras folded her small body against himself, much tighter than he had previously. His lips brushed against the back of her head, his abdomen pressed firmly against her spine.

"I'll speak with him," he said softly.

Eponine blinked the last of the tears away and shut her eyes, promising herself to remember that this wouldn't last long. After all, good things never did.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry this one took a little while. I suppose that's what happens when the Spring Holidays end. Thank you to everyone who's sticking with this! Reviews and suggestions are always greatly appreciated. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"Tomorrow the people rise," Enjolras reminded the group of student revolutionaries, who were for once sitting about the café, listening intently. All of their usual distractions and mumblings were cast aside as everyone focused their attention on their leader. "We will honor Lamarque's name at his funeral procession, building our barricades on the streets we've been assigned. Do you all remember your placements?"

A collective nod seemed to circle through the group.

"France has been too long burdened by the bars its government forces around it. We will break those bars. We will fight for the people, for their country, for their freedom. France will be a prison no more, but a land we are _proud_ to live in. _Vive la France_!" Enjolras shouted, raising a red flag high above his head. The café erupted in cheers. Courfeyrac and Combeferre stood, applauding. Eponine could see the excitement trembling in their fingers, the passion burning red in their cheeks. This was what these people were living for. She wondered if they were prepared to die for it as well.

Through the rampant cheers, Eponine noticed a slumped figure across the room. Grantaire was silent, his black eyes fixed solely on the man with the red flag. A bottle hung from his tired hand, his elbows resting weakly upon the bar. He took a swig of wine and swallowed harshly.

Eponine removed herself from her seat next to Joly and weaved through the students until she was standing in front of the black haired youth.

"Mind if I sit?"

Grantaire looked at her skeptically then returned his gaze to Enjolras, giving the girl a slight shake of his head. She slipped onto the stool beside him and followed his eyes to the boy, who was now discussing something quietly with Jehan.

"He's going to die," Grantaire said quietly.

"You don't know that," Eponine replied.

"But I do. Look at him. He's so passionate about this idiotic rebellion that he'll step in front of a gun just to leave some sort of imprint on anyone's mind," the boy brought the bottle to his lips but paused before drinking. "He doesn't understand that people simply don't care,"

"How can you say that? Of course they care. We all care. That's why we're here,"

"Not all of us," Eponine could barely hear the words escape his mouth, but they hung in the air for a few moments all the same. "I'm sorry I kissed you," Grantaire sighed and turned around, placing his now empty bottle on the bar. Eponine followed suit.

"It's alright,"

"No, it was stupid," he muttered.

"Why did you do it, then?" Eponine shot, somewhat annoyed. If she was really that undesirable that a frantic kiss was redeemed as 'stupid', there really was no hope for her and Marius. Her and anyone, for that matter.

Grantaire turned his head towards the small girl, staring her straight in the eye.

"Enjolras _hates_ me. He's the only reason I show up to these idiotic meetings and he can't even look at me. There's something wrong with that. With _me_. I'm not supposed to care so much about a man, let alone that one," he growled. His voice was slowly rising. "Then there you were, telling me that I'm good and kind and not caring that I waste myself on absinthe and rum,"

Eponine felt her cheeks blush red.

"And you were understanding and beautiful and everything a man is supposed to swoon over, so I kissed you," Grantaire dropped his gaze, his fists clenched. There was a small pause as Eponine processed the words.

"But I'm not Enjolras," she finished.

"No," he admitted. "You're Eponine,"

"Just Eponine," she sighed. The girl was surprised to feel a hint of longing tug at her stomach. It wasn't that she had fallen in love with the drunkard. She was just so used to being exactly the opposite of what people needed from her that she had hoped, just once, that she could be the one to make someone happy.

"Just Eponine is good, though," Grantaire took her hand in his. "Just Eponine is different than everyone else. She is kind and intelligent and witty. She listens and forgives when there is no room for forgiveness. She accepts. And she loves,"

Eponine's heart sped. She had never been told by anyone that she was anything but a pest, a street urchin, or a thief. This was far too much for her to handle.

"Grantaire, I'm not-"

"You are. And one day, someone will realize that and love you in the way that I cannot," he smiled weakly. Eponine squeezed his hand and kissed him lightly upon the cheek.

"Thank you, Grantaire," she whispered.

"Thank _you_," the boy picked up a new bottle of absinthe and laughed to himself as he downed a couple of swallows. "Now I've just got to find a way to make Enjolras fall in love with me,"

"What?" a surprised voice came from behind the two at the bar. They turned in their seats to find a confused Enjolras standing uncomfortably within hearing distance of their conversation. He was staring at Grantaire, eyes wide and arms hanging limply at his sides.

"Enjolras," the boy breathed. Eponine's mouth hung slightly open as she looked from one man to the other, unsure of what to do. _How long had he been standing there?_

"Make me fall in love with you?" he raised his eyebrows.

"I…I don't…This isn't….I'm drunk," Grantaire scrambled for something coherent to say. The blonde was not amused.

"I've seen worse, I know you're fully capable right now. What do you mean, 'make me fall in love with you'?"

"Nothing," Grantaire swallowed another gulp of alcohol, but Enjolras grabbed the bottle from him mid-sip.

"Tell me," he insisted. Enjolras held his gaze as the other glared at him fiercely.

"Don't make me do this,"

"Do what?" the man asked, holding the bottle away from Grantaire. The drunk slowly rose to his feet and leveled himself with the scholar. His eyes were mere inches from the other's. Eponine mused that Grantaire could lean forward slightly and easily receive the kiss he so longed for. For a moment, she thought he might. Then he spoke.

"I'm in love with you," he said quietly.

"…what?" the man stepped back.

"I'm in love with you, Enjolras!" Grantaire laughed loudly, swinging his arms out as if he were going to hug the boy and allowing a broad smile to spread across his face. The room went quiet as Enjolras stared at him. It was he whose mouth hung open, now.

"Grantaire, don't be stupid. This isn't funny,"

"Oh, but it is! It's hilarious!" the man grinned and stumbled towards the shocked revolutionary. All the eyes in the café followed him. "It's funny because I love you…but you don't love me! And you're…you're going t-to die tomorrow," The alcohol was clearly reaching his brain, slurring his words together and exaggerating his movements. Eponine held her breath.

"You're going to d-die and I-I'm going to be _so sad_, Enjy. You know w-why? It's b-because…you're g-going to die…and it won't m-matter," the laugh that came from his lips was very nearly a giggle.

"Stop it, Grantaire. You've had more wine than I thought," Enjolras hissed.

"You stop! S-stop blaming everything I d-do on wine! I'm drunk but I'm right. I'm in l-love with you…I d-don't want you to go. Enjy, Enjolras, Enj…Enj…Please don't go," the man's smile was fading, his arms fell to his sides. "Please don't…please don't go," a tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

"Go home, Grantaire. Sober up before tomorrow. We don't need a drunkard in our barricades," Enjolras turned to go. Grantaire squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head towards the floor, shaking slightly.

"Please don't go," he whispered. Enjolras froze for a moment, only a moment. Everyone watched as he took a deep breath, then continued out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**I am aware that I just posted a chapter and a note explaining that I haven't been keeping up due to my horrid amount of school work now that Spring Holiday is over, but I suppose the writing bug just bit me today. Was thinking about uploading this tomorrow, but I might as well do it today. I hope you enjoy :) **

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**Chapter 10**

"What was _that_?" Eponine slammed the door behind her as she stormed into Enjolras's flat. She found him sitting with his head in his hands, a book beneath his elbows but his eyes closed.

"Don't start, Eponine," he said softly.

"You said you'd _talk to him_, not break his heart!" she yelled, dropping her shawl on the coat rack and stomping over to the boy.

Enjolras looked up at her. His eyes were worn and tired, his hair matted where he had been gripping it. A bottle of rum sat half full beside him on the table. Even the candle looked beaten, nearly burnt out but still flickering on. Eponine softened her tone.

"He loves you,"

Enjolras looked lost.

"What am I supposed to say to that?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Not that he should go home and sober up," Eponine sat down at the table and took a drink from the boy's bottle. It had been a long night.

After Enjolras left the Café Musain, Grantaire had stood motionless save for his trembling hands. Eponine got up and put her arms around him, leading him back to their seats.

"Are you alright?" she asked. He shook his head mutely. "He'll be back,"

"No he won't," Grantaire mouthed, unable to produce anymore sound. Eponine began to rebuke, but stopped herself. She knew he was right. The marble lover of liberty had no mistress. He was stone, like the pavement he walked on, and could not be bought by tears and drunken promises.

"Do you want to leave?" she asked. The entire café was still watching them, unsure of what to do. Grantaire nodded and followed the girl out the door, into the black Paris night.

The two wandered amongst the streets and alleyways, no particular destination in mind. They very seldom spoke, but occasionally Eponine would voice a concern or ask the man a question. There was never an answer. He simply walked, shoulders back and head held high, legs stiff and fists clenched. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, never wavering. Eventually, they had walked circles around the city for so long that they had returned to the bakery above which Enjolras resided.

"You should go up," Grantaire said, his first sentence of the night.

"Will you be okay?" Eponine wasn't excited about the idea of returning to the scholar's flat. She was so angry at him that she wasn't sure if she could handle sleeping in the same room, let alone the same cot.

"I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for everything, 'Ponine," he turned to go without so much as a glance at the girl. She watched his heavy steps all the way down the street until he turned and disappeared from sight.

Reluctantly, Eponine passed through the bakery and up the stairs, all the while thinking about what Enjolras had done to Grantaire. He was so harsh to someone so sweet and undeserving. Surely alcohol couldn't redeem the boy's words. You can still feel when you're drunk.

Now, Enjolras seemed so unlike himself. He was sad and confused and not at all the stone statue she had been prepared to scold. She could hear his shaky breaths slipping in and out of his lips.

"Why are you so cruel to him?" she asked.

"I want to change the world, Eponine. He wants to drink wine and fantasize about things that hold no meaning. There is no reason for us to be kind to each other,"

"Tomorrow, he will fight alongside you, though he does not believe in the cause. He will fight because he believes in_ you_, Enjolras. Is that not reason enough?" she tilted her head so that she could look into the boy's eyes. He clenched his jaw.

"I cannot be held responsible for his actions merely because he fancies me,"

"Could you love him?" Eponine asked bluntly.

"No," Enjolras glowered then softened, lowering his eyes. "Not in the way that he means," The candle finally burnt out and the two sat silently in the dark without acknowledging the change. There seemed to be a lot of this unreciprocated love going around. How unfair life truly was, Eponine thought. To pine after someone and have no chance at all. It made the whole thing seem like a waste.

"I suppose you can't be strayed from your Patria," she sighed.

"That's not it," he muttered.

"What, then?"

"He's right. I will probably die tomorrow,"

"Enjolras..." the girl started.

"Let me finish. I will probably die tomorrow," the boy said coolly. "But I will be dying for something that I know is right. France must be freed, and if my blood is what will free it than I'll submit. But I will not make ties that do not need to be made when I will be gone so shortly. He asked me to stay, and I cannot. I must fight,"

"But if you weren't going to die. If the rebellion were not an object?" Eponine pressed.

"I still would not love Grantaire," Eponine couldn't see the blonde's face very well, but the icy light of the moon revealed just enough for her to know that he was deep in thought.

"Would you love at all?"

His ghostly features rose to stare Eponine in the eye.

"Yes, I should think I would," Suddenly, the girl's face burned and her pulse quickened. _What are you doing, Eponine? This is stupid. This is Enjolras._

"Oh?" the sound slipped from her lips like liquid. A chill danced about her shoulders.

"I should think…I should think I would love you, Eponine,"

Silence. The room felt slanted, the air seemed frigid and the wood beneath the girl suddenly felt too weak to hold her. This couldn't be happening. The absence of light was playing tricks on her ears. Men didn't love Eponine. They used her and they befriended her, but they did not love her. It was an emotion she was all too used to feeling but hardly aware of reciprocating. And yet Enjolras had made her heart stutter, her hands shake. How could she ignore the tugs in her stomach as he looked at her sheepishly, awaiting her response?

"Me, Monsieur?" she whispered.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable…" he ran a hand through his blonde curls, as he so often did.

"No, I…I would like to have loved you, too," the truth of the words relieved her. The nights spent curled in his arms, the evenings watching his fiery lips speak of revolution, the afternoons eyeing him as he studied, they all had meant much more than Eponine had let herself believe. She had been so fixed on Marius that she had ignored the skipped heart beats and happy sensations she experienced around the student's leader. And now, it appeared it was too late.

Eponine watched a small smile play at the corners of the boy's lips.

"It's a shame I'll be leaving tomorrow," he said lightly.

Eponine shrank in her seat. The way he spoke so surely of his death was spine tingling. How could he be so ready to give up his life?

"We both will," she replied.

"You don't mean…Eponine, surely you can't think that I'm going to let you behind the barricades?"

The girl narrowed her eyebrows.

"Of course, why wouldn't you? I've been to all the meetings! I'm _un ami de l'ABC_, just like the rest of you!" she cried.

"It's far too dangerous," Enjolras said shortly.

"You're positive that you're going to die and you're telling _me_ that it's too dangerous? I want to fight for my country, too. I want to fall for France!" she stood, pushing her chair forcefully behind her.

"Eponine, I am not going to let you die," he stood so that he was a good foot taller than her. She straightened herself and looked up at him defiantly.

"Then I'm not going to let you die," she returned. The man chuckled. Eponine noticed the stubble upon his chin, the smooth pastel glow of the moon on his cheeks, the strong line of his nose and the watery blue of his eyes as they looked softly down at hers. There was so much of this man that she wanted to fall in love with. She stood, simply looking, for a long time.

Before Eponine could stop herself, she heard words protruding from her own vocal box.

"May I kiss you?"

Enjolras searched her eyes for a moment, allowing her vulnerability to sift a bit before leaning down and placing his lips on hers.

It was unlike anything Eponine had ever felt before. It was true, she had been kissed a number of times. The majority were by men who were too drunk to realize she wasn't a prostitute, or that she didn't want to be kissed. Grantaire's addition to her experiences was not unwanted but not particularly romantic, either. It was frantic and chaotic, much like his feelings had been that night. But this, this was much different. It was sweet and loose, like honey. As Enjolras took her head in his hands and pressed himself against her, the girl realized that this was the first time she had kissed someone of her own accord.

Enjolras traced the line of her lips with his tongue. Breathlessly, she allowed it to slip inside and search for hers, their kisses growing more fervent with every passing second. Soon, his hands were traveling the length of her back, hers wrapped solidly around his neck. The man tugged on the string at the back of her corset and worked to unlace it, letting it drop to the floor along with her dress. Left only in her petticoats, Eponine lifted the boy's shirt above his head and placed her hands on his chest, continuing to press her lips against his.

Enjolras picked the girl up and placed her on the cot. His hips pressed her gently into the blankets, causing a slight gasp to escape her lips. She had not realized how _pleasant_ kissing could be. In all of its forced chaos, it had never occurred to her that a man could make her this happy. She had always known that Enjolras was strong and passionate, but it was only now that his firm muscles were pressed against her abdomen and his full lips massaged hers that she realized the two characteristics were not meant only for war and freedom. They were meant to be reveled in, loved. They were meant to be intertwined with soft skin and capable hands that were curious but not intruding. They were meant to be excited by tenderness as much as liberty, and Eponine loved to oblige.

Apart, they were crooked Parisians looking for something more from life than another day of not dying. Together, they were perfect. Eponine's fierce nature complemented Enjolras's tried patience. His temper rebounded off of her sweet understanding. They were both leaders in themselves, which made giving up so much greater. As they kissed, they did just that; they gave up. Tomorrow would bring death and destruction, but tonight was still tonight and it had not been stolen from them yet. So they cast away all ideas of strength and let themselves love, a task that no one else could have subjected them to.

Eventually, Enjolras rolled over to the other side of the cot and lay with his arms around the girl, their breathing falling into rhythm with each other.

"What are we going to do about tomorrow?" Enjolras whispered.

"I suppose we'll just have to try not to die,"

"I can't force you to stay here, then," the man said, defeated.

"Afraid not," Eponine smiled into the darkness and clutched at the scholar's back. "We'll fight together,"

"Together," he agreed, and buried his face in her hair. The two slept as they had countless nights before, entangled in each others' embrace. Tonight was different, though. Tonight, they were happy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Eponine woke shivering. Upon opening her eyes and finding an empty cot save for a few thin blankets, she immediately began to prepare herself for the cold, harsh reality that she had simply dreamed up the entire night. She sat up, rubbing her eyes of the sleep that still collected there and stretching her arms. She had always had the uncanny ability to imagine lives much better than her own. This wouldn't be the first time that it had gotten out of hand.

"_Bonjour ma belle amie_," the distinct tone of Enjolras's smooth voice jumped from the corner. Eponine snapped her head over to the man, who was seated at the table with two cups of milk and a plate of hot buns lying in front of him. The scent of warm bread filled the girl's head, nearly causing her to drool before she caught herself.

"Enjolras," the name rolled of her tongue like a sigh.

"How are you?" he asked, granting her a tiny smile. She rose from the bed and sat down across from the boy, eyeing the buns hungrily.

"Quite well, thank you. And you, monsieur?"

Enjolras looked down as he tried to keep a smirk from his lips. Lips that, Eponine realized, had been attached to hers only hours earlier. The thought satisfied her, but the smirk had the opposite effect.

"Was it something I said?" she nervously asked.

"No, no. I'm fine," he laughed lightly, passing her a bun. The girl accepted it with gracious hands and started picking it apart immediately, but would not let the subject go.

"Well now you must tell me," she urged in between bites. This had to be the most delicious breakfast she had ever had.

"It's silly," the smile faded but Enjolras's eyes remained aglow, soft blue that seemed to match the June sky that peaked through the window.

"All the more reason to tell me,"

"It's just that…you're so…beautiful. I noticed it when you were sleeping because you were so peaceful, but now I see that it's just you. In everything you do. You're so _beautiful_," he said, incredulous.

Eponine stopped mid-swallow and stared at him. _Was he right in the head?_

"Thank you, monsieur," she said softly, barely audible through the shock of such a compliment being paid to a gamine like herself.

"Must you always call me that?" Enjolras speculated, half annoyed and half bemused.

"Call you what?"

"'Monsieur' this, or 'Monsieur' that. I think we've reached the point in which you're allowed to call me by my name," he grinned.

"But you call me 'Mademoiselle'," Eponine pointed out, finishing off the last of her bun. The man across from her still had half of his left and seemed in no hurry to finish it. She bit her tongue to remind herself how unladylike she was being in the presence of a man who supposedly fancied her beautiful.

"That's different. It's a nickname. You call me 'monsieur' because you believe that I deserve it, that I'm a higher rank of human than you. It's not true, 'Ponine. We're the same, and I'd like to be treated as such," he said firmly.

"How did you-"

"I heard you explaining it to Combeferre," Enjolras sipped at his milk. "You're such a lovely little thing. So polite, yet so brave," The boy seemed to get lost in his own train of thought, not noticing the girl was blushing profusely across from him. _This was no way for a young scholar to treat a street urchin_, she thought. Apparently, he disagreed.

"Speaking of bravery," he said, shaking himself from his reverie, "We've a revolution today!" Enjolras jumped from his seat and walked to the dresser, where he briskly exchanged his night clothes for his cream shirt and black necktie. "The funeral procession is in an hour,"

Eponine's heart fell to her stomach. She may not have actually dreamt the previous evening, but she might as well have. How cruel, for life to finally lead her towards some glimmer of happiness, only to snatch it away from her within twenty four hour's time. She had nearly forgotten about the impending battle until the boy had mentioned it, and now all she could see were images of Enjolras's lifeless body among a hundred more. A tear escaped down her cheek as she pictured the man gone forever.

"Hey…" Enjolras knelt beside Eponine and wiped the tear from her face. "Hey, don't cry. This is _good_. This is what we've been preparing for,"

His eyes searched the girl's with such intensity that it took her slightly aback. She nodded her head meekly.

"I know. But now…now it's here," she whispered. Her almond eyes glistened with the threat of more tears, but none seemed brave enough to break free.

"Listen, it'll be okay," he smiled, but the girl could tell it was only an attempt to comfort her.

"You can't leave me,"

"Of course I won't," he assured, taking the girl in his arms. He held her for a minute before she pulled away, wide eyes staring at him fiercely.

"Promise me. Promise me you won't die today,"

"Eponine, I can't-"

"PROMISE ME!" The girl began to shake as the tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Enjolras loosened his grip and leaned back, as if he couldn't bear the sight of her so upset. Eponine pushed her face into her hands. Sobs caught in her throat and collected there, waiting for something to clear them out and discard them with the rest of the girl's hardships and struggles.

"Please," she cried desperately, "Please promise me, Enjolras,"

The man stared at her quietly. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were sad, no longer the blue of a sunny June sky but of a stormy sea, just waiting to be drowned in.

"I can't," he whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the shorter chapters. They're probably going to remain that way throughout the barricade scene. It seems they fit better with the story. Thank you for all of your follows/favorites/reviews! They are all met with genuine smiles and days-well-made. Thanks for reading!**

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**Chapter 12**

"Here," Combeferre thrust a long musket into the hands of a young boy without paying much attention, moving on to the next man who bore a cockade on his chest. If he had taken the time to glance at this newly made soldier, he would have realized that it was not a boy at all, but the small girl who frequented the ABC Café as often as the rest of them.

Eponine looked down at the gun in her hands. She was only one of dozens of young men brandishing weaponry and murmuring in excited undertones around the town square. She had adorned herself in Enjolras's masculine clothing so that she would go unnoticed among the streets. So far, it had been an effective plan.

The funeral procession was bound to begin any minute. Eponine looked around silently, watching as people lined the sides of the streets and made for last minute conversations before the big event. Everyone seemed so enthralled, so filled with anticipation. It seemed as if they had replaced the blood in their veins with adrenaline, blind to the ideas of death and violence. The musket in the girl's hands suddenly felt heavier.

Just then, a small boy ran across the street and wrestled his way between a sad looking Grantaire and a fierce looking Courfeyrac. He turned and stood up tall, straightening his cap over his stringy blonde hair and clutching a long gun to his chest. Eponine gasped.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded after racing across the road and grasping the boy by his shoulders.

"I'm part of the revolution," he said defiantly, pushing her clenched hands away.

"Of course you are, Gavroche, but not here. Not in the fight," Eponine had known that her brother shadowed the revolutionaries, running errands for them and worming his way into their conversations. They were kind and looked after him during the few instances where he could not fend for himself, but she never thought for a moment they would recruit him for this part of their plan.

She stood up and glared at Grantaire, who was standing warily beside them.

"What the hell?" she snapped, moving so that she was inches from his frightened face.

"He wanted to fight," the boy reasoned.

"So you just gave him a gun? He is a _child_!"

"Hey, I'm not-" Gavroche began, but his outraged sister cut him off quickly.

"He could _die_," she growled. Grantaire was carefully leaning away from the girl, attempting to distance himself from the gun he was very aware that she was carrying.

"I'm s-sorry," he stammered.

"Are you _drunk_?" Eponine asked, disbelieving. She could smell the faint trace of alcohol that seemed ever present on the young man's lips.

"I'm not drunk," he tried to say it confidently, but the words slipped through his mouth like a scared question.

"You are! You've been drinking! No wonder you were going to let Gavroche have a gun, you idiot!"

"I'm not drunk," the boy repeated quietly, averting his eyes.

"I can't believe you went drinking," Eponine laughed cynically. The boy stood silently, glaring at his opposite with chilling black eyes. The girl leaned down and wrapped her arms around the young blonde, pulling him towards her.

"Come on, Gavroche. Let's get you somewhere safe," she said softly. Just as she was heading back across the street, much to the dismay of the child, she turned and looked at the bristling brunette. "Of all days, Grantaire,"

That was it. The young man gritted his teeth and took a bold step towards the girl, eyes aflame despite their cloudy glaze.

"_Especially_ today!" he shouted. Eponine froze. "You're so worried that he's going to die in the battle, but I'm certain that I will! I have no chance of living and no reason to, either. Today I will fall. For France, for him, I don't know. Neither will care once I do. But I _will _fall. I think I'm allowed to ease the pain at my will,"

Eponine could not find words. She merely stood, arms still wrapped around her brother and forest brown eyes set like stone on the angry man. After a long pause, she gave him a small nod and backed away. Today would be the end for many. Though it pained her to picture one of her only friends being shot dead, she knew she had to accept that she could not protect everyone. This was the future. It was her duty to make sure that her brother did not hold the same.

Grantaire watched as she went, black curls rustling in the June breeze. Courfeyrac put a light hand on his shoulder, but the man did not take his cold eyes off of the pair of siblings until they were lost completely in the crowds. He wondered what it would be like to be protected by someone who loved you. He wondered what it would be like to have someone who loved you at all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"I'm not staying here," Gavroche crossed his arms and pursed his lips defiantly at his flustered sister. The sun filtered in through the small window in Enjolras's flat, catching bits of the boy's golden hair here and there. Eponine was sure that her friend wouldn't mind if Gavroche spent the evening here, away from the barricade. Outside, she could hear the slow beginnings of the funeral march. She had to get down there.

"You will not leave, do you understand?" she gripped the boy's shoulders fiercely.

"Why can't I fight with everyone else?" he pouted.

"If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself. You have to stay here, Gavroche,"

The blonde eyed her menacingly, but allowed her a small nod as a huge sigh escaped his mouth. He flopped onto the cot in the corner, still unmade from last night's turn of events. Eponine lingered a moment in the room, wishing that she did not have to go. The flat seemed so empty without its large supply of weaponry. Enjolras's books still lay strewn about the table, his bottom dresser drawer still slightly opened, his night shirt still draped across the back of a wooden chair. The apartment was so lived in, but there was no man who had done the living. Perhaps that was the strangest part of all.

Eponine sucked in a breath, allowing the scent of parchment and melted wax to fill her before kneeling down beside her brother.

"I've got to go. Stay here," she kissed him lightly on the forehead and tapped his brown cap down so that it covered his eyes. The boy smiled and playfully returned it to its rightful position, grinning up at the brunette.

"Love you, 'Ponine," he said.

The girl stood up and headed for the door.

"Love you too, Gav,"

As soon as she heard the click of the wood shutting behind her, Eponine ran down the stairs and out the bakery. The funeral had begun. People were everywhere, crowding the streets like swarms of insects just waiting for something to happen. The girl raced back to the square where she had left Grantaire, hoping to find him before the battle began. There was no sense in being angry with someone today, especially the sad man who knew nothing but longing.

"Watch it, boy!" someone spat as she accidentally slammed into a tall, uniformed figure. She had nearly forgotten how she was dressed.

"_Désolé_," Eponine murmured and continued to run without meeting the man's eyes. She didn't get very far before a hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her back. Inspector Javert peered down at the girl, his gray eyes critical and his head held even higher than usual.

"Thénardier," he hissed. Apparently her disguise had not been as shielding as she had hoped.

"Inspector," Eponine managed to get the word out, but could not hold the man's gaze. She was too busy searching the crowds for Grantaire's black curls, not even hoping to find Enjolras's blonde ones. Suddenly, a memory from earlier that day surfaced.

_Stay here_, he said.

_No, Enjolras_-

_I will not lose you. _The man had wiped the stale tears from her cheeks, seemingly more determined than ever.

_But last night, we said…we said we'd fight together_.

_That was stupid. It's far too dangerous. Promise me you'll stay here_.

_Like you promised me you wouldn't leave?_ The girl returned harshly.

_Stop it. Promise me, Eponine. _

She had stared at him for a moment, taking in his fierce grimace and marble demeanor. It was something of a drug, she realized. The very idea of the young revolutionary was addictive; fiery passion locked inside of a strong statue that still appeared to feel as most men feel; weak, protective, scared. He was everything all at once. It was then that Eponine realized that she wanted to make this man happy, in all of his complicated glory. So she obliged, granting him a small nod, much as Gavroche had later granted her.

_I promise_.

Now the girl stood impatiently in the policeman's grip, not wanting to cause any trouble in running away, but not having the time to be stopped by inquisitive authority figures.

"May I ask why you've graced us all with this lovely display?" Javert ran his eyes up and down the girl coldly. A hungry glint shimmered in his pale gray irises.

"Please, Monsieur, I have to go," Eponine pleaded.

"Ah, I'm sure you do," the man dug his fingers deeper into her arm. "Can't be missing the fun, now can we?"

The Jondrette girl was sure she had caught a glimpse of Grantaire's black mane, but it quickly disappeared in the throng of citizens mourning the loss of the General.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Monsieur,"

"Yes you do, you filthy gamine. Your friends are playing their little freedom game today, and you're on your way to help them. Isn't that right?" he leaned in so that his ominous figure was blocking out the sun and Eponine could nearly feel his stubble brush against her ear. "Take me to them," he whispered.

"Wh-what?" she trembled.

"Take me to the barricade,"

"I-I don't know what-" she stammered. Javert shook her sharply.

"Stop lying to me, Thénardier. I've got more reasons than you can count to throw you in jail. If I were you, I couldn't be too careful,"

Just then an enormous crash sounded from across the square. Both the Inspector and the girl snapped their heads towards the noise, finding that a piano had fallen to the pavement and was being mimicked by numerous other articles of furniture. Tables, chairs, armoires, nightstands, coat racks, even coffins were plummeting from nearby windows as people yelled from the streets.

Chaos ensued. Women grabbed at children, rushing them indoors. Men snatched at weapons and shouted across to each other, running to and fro between the masses of people who simply did not know what was going on. Some began to throw the fallen furniture into a pile at the end of the street, creating an ever growing wall that towered high above the heads of those who were building it.

"I spoke too soon," the Inspector smiled and let go of the girl's arm. He stood up straight and removed a cockade from the inside of his jacket, fastening it stiffly to the front of his uniform. "I'll see you at the barricade, my girl,"

Eponine could only watch him disbelievingly for a moment before she was pushed along by the crowds around her. She didn't know what the man was planning on doing, but she knew she had to get to _les amis de l'ABC_ before he did. Her ample feet wove her easily between the rushes, guiding her to the barricade as if on instinct.

The girl's heart sped when she saw Enjolras's familiar figure throwing chairs atop the growing pile. His back was to her, red jacket gleaming in the afternoon heat, golden locks glinting white in the sun. Eponine quickly retreated to the shadows of the buildings. She had to find a way to warn him about the Inspector without letting him see that she had disobeyed him.

_It's not as if he owns me,_ she thought to herself. _We kissed. That hardly means I'm under his control. If I gave myself to every man who put his lips on mine, I'd be miserable. _She was just about to reveal everything and run up to him when she remembered the look on his face as he had waited for her promise. It was the first time she had ever seen any hint of a plea in his marble features. She had been so overcome with her desire to fulfill that plea that she had lied to him, letting him believe what she had no intentions of doing, simply to put his heart at rest. How could she ruin all that now?

Eponine frantically searched for a solution. It was then that Grantaire appeared, slinking about the outskirts of the barricade with a gun hanging loosely from his hand. He was watching Enjolras, just as the girl had been only moments earlier. She felt a pang in her chest as she thought back on the night's romantic activities, realizing how horrible Grantaire would feel if he ever found out. She had known about the boy's feelings and chose to ignore them, thinking only of herself in a rash instant of self indulgence. She had no time to examine her motives or her conscience, though. Not now. Eponine snatched at the man's arm and pulled him into the shade of the storefront.

"Grantaire," she said quietly. She didn't have to whisper as one could barely hear a shout amongst the growing chaos.

"Wha-what?" his words were even more slurred than earlier that afternoon. He had brandy on his breath. "Who're you?"

"It's me, Eponine. I need to you to tell Enjolras something for me,"

The drunk lulled at the sound of the leader's name. He peered down at the girl gripping his arm.

"Why can't y-you do it?"

"I'm not supposed to be here. I promised him I wouldn't come," she explained. Grantaire's face fell noticeably.

"He's protecting you," he stated sadly. "R-right,"

"No, no not at all," _One more lie wouldn't hurt_. "He said I'd just get in the way. Can't work a gun to save my life, I'd probably end up hurting one of our own,"

The black haired youth seemed to brighten at the idea, though it did not fully satisfy him.

"I need you to tell him that Javert is coming, though. I ran into him just now and he's on his way here. You need to warn Enjolras right now," she pleaded, shaking the boy lightly when he continued to stare off at the passionate revolutionary.

"Who's J-Javert?" he slurred, dazed.

"The Inspector! Inspector Javert!" It seemed that he was not as infamous within other circles. Eponine had no time to waste explaining this to an intoxicated man, though. She gave him a small push back into the light of the streets. "Please, Grantaire! Please go!"

Once he seemed well on his way towards Enjolras, Eponine scurried off into the thick of the chaos. If she was going to break her promise, she might as well contribute something worth breaking.


End file.
